


Dalah

by Damalia (Achrya)



Series: A Paladin, a Demon Hunter, and a Priest walk into a inn... [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - World of Warcraft Fusion, Established Relationship, Fantasy blood and violence, Languages, M/M, Sappy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, implied Eremin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6520669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Damalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco keeps meaning to learn Elvish, he really does, but it’s easier said than done. Jean takes advantage to say things he might not otherwise.</p><p>(Or Demon Hunter Jean is actually a big sap.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dalah

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: I have like 4 stories in this AU half to three-fourths of the way done so. Here we go. Set a few months after Sinu A’manore.

Marco Bodt was not a man who used the word ‘hate’ lightly. Anyone who knew him would testify to the fact that he was one of the most understanding and tolerant people they’d ever met. He preferred not to hate but to try to understand.

With that in mind: Marco hated Northrend. He hated the snow. He hated the endless forests, the alarming amount of ‘hidden’ underground territory, the never ending cold and, at that particular moment in time, he sort of hated his guildmates.

They should have been safe and warm in an inn back in town but no, Eren had spotted a flier for a job, dragged them out to the pub to talk to some unfortunate dwarven archaeologists, and then insisted they accept the offered job.

It was the right thing to do and Marco did try to do the right thing and help those who couldn’t help themselves. Defend the defenseless, protect what needed protecting, do what he could all in the in the name of the Holy Light; those weren't just hollow concepts to him but what he honestly believed in. He really did have every intention of representing his order well.

But more than he hated Northrend and the cold and the snow he hated bugs. Especially homicidal bugs that were roughly twice his size and had a fairly impressive skeleton collection decorating their ‘home’. Something about being watched by rows of grinning skulls just didn't fill him with confidence.

He just wanted a bath and a nice bed. Was that so much to ask?

“Why don’t we kill some bugs for this guy?” Marco ground out as he threw up his shield to block a blow from the sharp powerful limbs of the Nerubian worker trying to take his head head off. It clanged off of his shield loudly, echoing off the high ceilings and walls of the crypt, and made his arm shake.

“Can’t be any worse than those ones in the desert, right? C’mon Marco, how bad can it be? It’ll be fun! Can you believe that? Fun?”

The bug, a great hulking blue and purple beast with six spindly legs coming out of the lower section of it’s body, two more hair covered limbs that ended in wickedly sharp points coming out of it’s upright sitting torso, had a wide gaping maw easily big enough to shove a man- or fine, to shove a goblin or dwarf- into whole and was basically the stuff of Marco's nightmares. It clicked it’s mouth, spraying big globs of green spite that, judging from how it bubbled and hissed when it came in contact with anything, was actually acidic.  

He could hear Armin, somewhere just out of sight, chanting softly as he used his magic to shield them from the acid and hastily heal the damage they took but he knew the priest wouldn’t be able to keep it up much longer. The others he could see, weaving between the thing’s legs while it's focus was on Marco, raining down blows in hopes of whittling it down.

It’s exoskeleton was near impossible to get through as far as Marco could tell so they had to concentrate elsewhere, namely it's exposed belly. Deep claw and stabbing wounds littered the beast’s body, letting noxious smelling blood seep out and splash the floor.

“And then! As if spending an hour stomping on waist high bugs wasn’t enough do you know what happened next?” He ducked then thrust his sword forward past the bug’s guard. He grazed the armor less skin on its , saw a line of green appear where the flesh parted. There was a flash of movement from the side and Mikasa was there, Sasha’s wolf at her heels. Mikasa jammed her daggers into the wound and tore it wider. Blood poured and something Marco was loath to identify sagged out; the wolf snapped and tore away chunks of flesh and innards.

The Nerubian bellowed then chittered furiously, ichor dripped fangs flashing as it skittering back then tried to bring one of it’s legs down on them. Arrows sailed through the air, a dark curtain as they fell between Mikasa, the wolf, and the Nerubian and exploded into a thick oily smoke.

Mikasa hopped back, a blur of red and black, and seemed to melt into the smoke with the wolf. More arrows, these ones trailing fire, thunked wetly as they found purchase in the bug. Marco jumped forward into the smoke cover Sasha had provided, light jumping out from his finger tips as he slammed the edge of his shield into the now gaping hole in the beast’s stomach and followed it with a blast of light. He saw Eren lunge forward from the beast’s other side, jaws wide. He clamped down on one of the thing’s leg, snarling and shaking his head while his claws tried to dig into it’s belly. It thrashed violently, trying to dislodge the panther while also trying to lash out at Marco, who danced just out of range.

He could see Jean jumping, leathery wings flapping powerfully, and landing on the thing’s back. A flash of green fire, a swing of Jean's glaive, and the Nerubian shrieked as green blood sprayed through the air.

With one great shake Eren was slammed into and through one of the crypt’s crumbling walls.

“Eren!” Two voices shouted.

Armin darted forward, skirting acid pools and flaming arrows stuck in the ground, to get to the fallen druid.

Marco couldn't watch the Draenei’s progress, had to stay in the fight, could only spare a second to mutter “Protection.” in the priest's direction.

The bug was still shaking, trying to get Jean loose, and reaching back to try and grab at or skewer the demon hunter who was about to bring his second glaive down into whatever gap he’d found or made in the beast’s exoskelton. It was all happening so fast, too fast.

He threw his shield, pushing the Light into the metal as it left his hand. It arced up, a spinning disc of gold, and slammed into the beast’s face. It stumbled, two of it’s legs buckling and bringing it’s front end low.

More arrows fell, dropping smoke bombs and Mikasa dropped out of the cover, daggers replaced with short swords. She was fast, everywhere at once, stepping in and out of the smoke as her weapons caught the unnatural light illuminating the tomb and gleamed.

Blood, thick and such a dark green it was nearly black splashed against the walls from all angles and, much to his dismay, over him as well. It smelled like rotting meat and death and with it clinging to his skin and hair (why had he left his helm? Mistakes had been made.) it was hard to not heave. The Nerubian was screaming but it's cries were weak and growing weaker.

When Mikasa finally stopped moving, skidding to a stop in a low crouch with her teeth bared in a furious grimace, the beast had gone silent but perhaps that was because it's huge head was mostly disconnected from its shoulders. It shuddered one last time then crashed to the ground, shaking the tomb and causing dust to rain down on them, adding a thick layer of dirt to everything else.

She turned and, before the thing was even really done moving, had dropped her fur, shrank back to her human body, and was dashing to the hole in the wall Armin had already scrambled through.

Marco sighed as he looked down at himself. “And then someone had the bright idea of investigating the large shady looking tomb all the bugs seemed to be protecting. Surprise, giant man eating spider. So much fun.”

“Och.” Sasha said as she rappelled down from the ledge she'd been shooting from, bow already tucked against her back. Her wolf looped over, just as fluid and dirt caked as the rest of them. “That girl is terrifying.”

He nodded his agreement while trying to brush some of the gore from his armor. He'd just gotten-looted-this too. He doubted it would ever smell right.

“Did you not have fun?” Jean asked, somehow laughing and grinning as he bounded gracefully over the bug's corpse to them. He was less messy than the rest of them but Marco had long held the theory that Blood Elves repelled dirt.

Marco glowered at his lover and his pristine hair and face. “Yes Jean. Nothing makes me happier than dealing with giant terrifying spiders who want to eat me.”

“Hey,” Armin stuck his head out through the hole. “Eren is fine. He went through the wall in bear form so his fat-”

“Muscle!” Eren shouted from somewhere out of sight.

“Absorbed the impact.” Armin said, shaking his head. “But, uh, there's a chamber over here full of stuff. I think it's everything from all of that thing's victims.”

Marco cast a look over the bone piles and eerie skulls lining the alcoves high on the wall. All manner of people; Humans, tusked skulls of Orcs and Trolls, large horned skulls of Tauren and Draenei, tiny Gnome, Dwarf, and Goblin bones, thin elven skeletons...it was a mass grave.

And they were going to loot it. Marco didn't exactly approve but it wasn't like these people were going to be using any of it and new weapons and armor didn't just pop up in random chests.

It was a unfortunate necessity.

Jean nudged him with his shoulder. “We will put their things to good use then seal this tomb _dalah’belore_. It is a good way to honor them.”

He nodded and made himself smile. Jean nudged him again before jogging off to join the others. Marco swiped a hand over his shield, sighing again as the eight pointed star of his order was exposed. Hopefully he'd be able to salvage it; he'd gotten it when he'd officially joined the Argent Crusade and that was a memory he held dear.

He hated to think of the day someone might be taking it from his body.

Laughter made him look up to see Sasha grinning so widely her pointed teeth were on display. She was pouring a pouch of water over her wolf, working the worst of the mess from its fur but her eyes were on him.

“What?”

Her glowing white eyes flickered over to the hole in the wall. “Never thought I’d see a prissy Blood Elf so smitten over a ‘lowly’ human. It’s...sweet.”

Marco blinked at her, not sure if he should defend Jean against being called prissy or being smitten with him. Jean was...complicated. Had to be to be the sort of person who would imbue himself with demon magic and parts, change who he was, in order them fight. There was some softness to him and Marco supposed he may have been privy to most of it, but there wasn't much. As intense and, yes, caring as their relationship could be he wasn't sure ‘smitten’ or ‘sweet’ were things Jean was capable of.

He didn't doubt the demon hunter felt something for him but he knew there was a lot of darkness that Jean welcomed into himself to be what he was. He didn't know how much space was left for other things sometimes. Marco could understand that because he'd given much of himself to the Light and so he didn't begrudge Jean his choices.

Still there were times he wished things between them were a little more clear. That it was easier to know where he stood with Jean.

“ _Dalah’belore_.” Sasha said, eyebrows waggling. “You know what that means, don't you?”

He pursed his lips and rubbed at his shield again because, actually, no he didn't. He kept meaning to work on his Elvish, and Jean's dialect in particular, but it had been easier to get the Blood Elf fluent in Common since he'd been mostly there anyway and it had taken Marco years to learn Dwarvish…

Languages just weren't his strong suit.

He envied how easily Armin had picked up Eren and Sasha’s language.

“ _Belore_ is...light? Or glow?” He said finally. Jean had started calling him that, usually when they were alone, and Marco figured it was some sort of pet name.

Or a sweetly spoken insult. Either was a viable option.

The huntress smirked at him then straightened up to her full, rather impressive, height. “My Thalassian isn't great but it's close enough to what I speak and I'm pretty sure he's calling you ‘My sun.’”

Marco blinked again. “What?”

That couldn't be right. Not from Jean, who after months of traveling together still referred to Eren as ‘that stupid shitty cat.’ (and if Marco ever figured out who had taught Jean curse words, and he strongly suspected Sasha, he was going to...be very disappointed in them.)

“Not a small thing for someone who walks in so much darkness.” Sasha said, winking at him.

\---

The amount of gold it took to be allowed back in the inn in their abysmal states, to secure baths for the night, and cleaning service for their armor was a step above robbery. Marco forked it over then sent the others off to clean up while he tracked down the group of Dwarves they'd accepted the job for. He was paid (double, even) and thanked and assured over and over that the tomb would be left sealed out if respect before the explorers hurried off back to their dig sight, heedless of the late hour.

He hauled himself back down the hall and up to his room for the night (ignoring the sounds coming from the one he was fairly certain Eren and Armin were sharing). He pushed open the door and practically moaned in relief at the sight of a cast iron tub already full of steaming water in the center.

Maybe it hadn't been robbery after all. Maybe it had been completely worth every copper, because standing in the room and letting the wet warmth in the air seep into his skin already felt like heaven.

“You need help getting that stuff off or did you want to be alone with the bath?”

It was a true testament to how tired he was and the pitiful state he was in that he'd noticed the bath and not Jean naked on his bed. Though now that he'd noticed it was impossible to look away.

Jean was slighter in build than one might expect for a melee fighter, even an elven one, but it wasn't a sign of weakness. Jean was all lean corded muscle, built for speed and stealth and fast furious attacks. His body was very different from Marco's and, left to his own devices, he could have watched him for hours. The long angular face, sharp features and amused tilt to his lips, the way his hair fell when it unbound, the way dark pink skin pulled over muscle and bone, the way tattoos danced over his chest and arms, the near hairless body except for the thin ash brown trail over his belly that made its way downward and

Oh.

He was staring and Jean was watching him like he knew it, grinning smugly like he didn't have a blindfold tight over his eyes and didn't claim to ‘see’ Marco as a glowing blob.

Marco sighed, smiling some, then held out his hands towards the elf. “Please.”

Jean was up and in front of him in a second, deft fingers working over the clasps and catches of his armor, bags, and weapons. The bags went onto the bedside table and the rest fell to the floor then vanished with soft pops (to, he hoped, be cleaned and not stolen). When he was bare, save the blood and dirt encrusted on his face and hair, he let the elf tug him towards the tub. He stepped in without hesitation, hissing at the heat of the water, and sank down.

Amazing would have been an grave understatement. The warmth sunk in to his body, chased away the lingering aches and pains. He could smell something floral in the water and feel oil sliding over his skin, clinging to it.

“What’d you put in here?”

“Fire oil and something to help you sleep.” Long fingers touched his shoulders and pushed. He didn't resist as he was forced down do the water could cover the top of his head.

When he broke the surface the water was still clear, unaffected by the grim sluicing off of him. Enchanted baths were the best. Jean was still outside the tub, on his knees with his arms folded on the side, chin resting on them. Marco pushed the wet hair and water from his face then reached out to touch the other.

“You getting in?”

“In a minute _dalah’belore_.” Jean’s eyebrows went up playfully and Marco wasn't sure if he didn't hear the way his breath caught or was just ignoring it but he continued on. “Perhaps I want to watch you for a time.”

Jean's fondness for jokes about his sight was both painful and terrible. Just this once Marco let it slide and, instead, glided through the water to bring his face close to the elf’s. He brushed his fingers over Jean’s face and neck before wrapping his fingers around the back and moving even closer until their lips were nearly touching.

“ _Dalah’surfal_.”

Jean went rigid for a moment then tilted his head slightly. “Marco-”

He felt heat, not from the bath, rushing up his face. “Oh, Light, did I pronounce that wrong? I asked Armin while we were walking back and he seemed sure but maybe I should have asked Sasha? Not that she'd ever let me live it down or maybe I shouldn’t have said it at all but I thommphh.”

Jean's lips against his own halted the nervous babble. It was a surprisingly soft kiss, a press of lips and a touch breath then a slow rasp of tongue against his own. There was a curl of arousal in his stomach but it was low and quiet, not at all the usual burning and urgent need borne of never being quite sure what would happen in the morning.

“Your pronunciation is very good.” Was whispered against his lips when they broke apart.

Marco nodded then smiled, unable to contain it. “Good. I'm...good.”

Jean kissed him again then pulled away to lever himself into the tub behind him, skin sliding over skin and legs wiggling past his waist as the elf molded himself against his back. Marco leaned back into him and, as Jean snagged a bar of spicy smelling soap from somewhere, thought that it hadn't been all that bad a day after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Dalah’belore- My Sun  
> Dalah’surfal- My Love  
> Jean’s sappy. No one should be shocked  
> Eren is a Night Elf Druid, Sasha is a Night Elf Hunter, and Mikasa is a Worgen Rogue.  
> http://acharyadiako.tumblr.com/post/142596401385/more-things-for-things-that-will-make-sense-in-a (Visual aids for Worgen and Elves.)
> 
>  And [this is](http://pololotp.tumblr.com/post/142528881147/sometimes-you-just-finish-a-fic-stare-at-the) some amazing art by Pololotp of Jean, Armin, and Marco in this AU. Go forth and tell them how awesome it is, thanks. 


End file.
